


Not What I'd Recommend for Trust Building Exercises But Whatever Works I Guess

by Silver_89



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Early Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, very very very mild gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_89/pseuds/Silver_89
Summary: Inspired by Amos' comment to Prax that he's only ever pulled staples out of himself before.A little exploration of Amos and Naomi's early working relationship.  Shed alerts her that Amos hasn't been in to get staples removed from a work injury so Naomi has to go hunt her mechanic down.





	Not What I'd Recommend for Trust Building Exercises But Whatever Works I Guess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allez_Argeiphontes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allez_Argeiphontes/gifts).



Her hand terminal chimed for the fifth time in as many minutes and Naomi sighed, agitated.  She shoved the welder towards the bulkhead where it stuck with a satisfying _thunk_ before pulling the terminal from her pocket.  Naomi counted five messages from Shed, the Cant’s medic.  She tapped one and let it play.

“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you but your assistant, um-” he glanced at another screen, “Mr. Burton, ah I mean Amos, I think he prefers Amos-” Naomi sighed impatiently.  As if he’d known what her reaction would be, Shed continued quickly. “He hasn’t checked in to get those staples removed. I sent him a reminder but he’s a no-show. Anyway since you’re his CO-”

“You want me to hunt him down for you,” Naomi snapped, cutting the message off.  She sent back a quick affirmative reply then stuffed the terminal back into her pocket.  This bucket was falling apart at every seam and she had to stop duct taping it back together to hunt down her stubborn subordinate because the medic was too scared of him to do it himself.

Naomi put her gloves and helmet away before heading to the lift to go down to the crew deck.  She tried the mess hall first, then the head to no avail. She’d been hoping not to have to go to his quarters.  There was almost no privacy on the Cant but your bunk was your bunk and Naomi hated to invade anyone’s personal space as much as she hated anyone invading hers.  At least as Chief Engineer she was granted a single, if small, bunk space of her own.

As Naomi came down the hall she spotted three men standing outside the door to what she knew to be Amos’ bunk.  They must’ve been his bunk mates. Her stomach sank. She hoped he hadn’t gotten the sickness some inyalowdas suffered.  A longing for space and light that drove them mad. One of the men was pounding on the door demanding to be let in. He stopped when he saw her approach.

“What’s going on?”

“Pashangwala locked us out!  Been out here forty minutes! We want to sleep!”

“I’ll take care of it.  Give me ten minutes.”

Their eyes widened at her.

“You goin’ in there alone?  With him?”

“Go.  That’s an order.”  They looked at her like she had two heads before hurrying off.  Naomi turned to the door and pounded twice. “Amos, it’s me. I’m coming in.  You better be decent.”

She held her hand terminal up to the keypad and overrode the lock before punching in the ‘Open’ command.  The door clicked and slid open.

Amos stood in the corner, his back to her and his left side facing a small mirror.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt and in the reflection of the mirror she saw the angry red line that stretched across his belly and around his ribs from a snapped steel cable.  Had he been any closer to it, he would’ve been cut in half. His fingertips were bloody and he was using a pair of pliers to tug out the surgical staples Shed had used to stitch him up.

“What are you _doing_?” She asked breathlessly.  Amos turned to look at her, eyebrow cocked, like the answer was obvious.

“Taking ‘em out myself,” he said casually, as if what he was doing was completely normal.

“You . . .” Naomi sat down when her knees went weak as she watched him start on another one.  “Why didn’t you go to Shed?”

“Talks too much.”

Naomi couldn’t help the amused smile at his response.  “You’ve got a point there.”

The pliers slipped and he hissed.  He couldn’t get a good grip, left or right hand, the last few staples too far around his side to reach.  His continued attempts only resulted in a swollen and angrier-looking wound. Amos grunted in frustration arms falling to his sides.

“You really don’t want to go to Shed, do you?”

“Not really,” he said quietly.  His back was still facing her and he didn’t even look at her through the mirror.

“Come with me.”  Amos turned around, looking at her with wide eyes.  “I’ll help you get the rest out.” His eyes narrowed and his shoulders hunched with tension.  “It’s me or Shed. Up to you.” After several seconds, his shoulders dropped in defeat and he picked up his shirt from the bed.

Quietly he followed her to upper command quarters and into her own bunk.  The lack of personalization told him just as much as decorating it would have.  Observing his surroundings was an ingrained habit but it still felt invasive of her privacy, one he wouldn’t be breaching if he’d just gone to Shed like he was supposed to.

Naomi gestured for him to sit on the bed and he did so, his left side facing outward.  She stuck a magnetic light above him, directing its beam to his side. After getting him situated, she opened a locker and pulled out a medkit and plopped it in front of him before grabbing a stool and sitting down next to the bed.  As she pulled on latex gloves, Amos reached up and grabbed the metal bar that ran above the bunk to keep his arm out of the way.

She held out her hand and he gave her the pliers.  Amos couldn’t see what she was doing but he watched her face like a hawk.  As Naomi began working one of the staples out of his skin, his spine stiffened, his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth opened in a silent scream.  The metal bar he held onto groaned and she looked up to see his knuckles were white as bone. She stopped immediately and he let out a long breath.

“How long since you last used lidocaine?”

“I didn’t.”  Naomi’s eyes widened and she stared at him in shock.  He’d pulled most of the staples out without even bothering to numb it first.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”  She pulled a sachet of lidocaine from the medkit and tore it open before rubbing a generous amount into his skin.  Amos shrugged.

“Didn’t think about it.  Don’t usually use that stuff.  Doesn’t matter.” He cocked his head at her expression - eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  He’d said something upsetting. Naomi averted her gaze and rolled away from him to throw the empty sachet away.

“It’ll take about five minutes before it’s numb,” she said quietly, keeping her gaze averted.

‘Doesn’t matter.’   _Of course it does!_ She wanted to yell at him.  What kind of life had he lived that made him think his own pain didn’t matter?  Had him hole up in a dark corner with work tools pulling his own staples because that was preferable to being vulnerable around a professional stranger?

Her thoughts went to Filip and the ache in her chest increased tenfold.  She prayed a similar fate did not await him. She couldn’t protect him, couldn’t comfort him, couldn’t hold him.  Naomi shoved those thoughts, the pain, away. She could help Amos.

Naomi moved the stool back over to the bed.  Amos lifted his arm again and she began to gently prod around the wound, searching his face for evidence of pain.

“Do you feel anything?”

“No.”

“You’re not lying?”  He looked at her.

“No.”  She chose to believe him.

“Alright.  I’m gonna try this again, starting at the end and working my way towards where you left off.”  Naomi talked him through each one so he’d know exactly what she was doing since he couldn’t see or feel it.  When she was done, she dropped the pliers onto a tray of removed staples and peeled her gloves off, dropping them into the recycler.  Amos pulled his shirt back on and moved to leave.

“Hey,” she called out to him.  He stopped and turned to look at her.  She wanted to hug him. Wanted him to know he didn’t have to suffer.  That his pain did matter. But she was willing to bet he wouldn’t respond well to the sentiment.  “You’re wrong.” Amos tilted his head at her. “It does matter. I don’t need my best mechanic doing shoddy work because he’s in pain and scared of doctors.”

“I’m not scared of-”

“If you don’t want to go to the medbay that’s fine,” she interrupted.  “But you _will_ come to me.  That’s an order.  You got that?”

His face broke in a big grin as he shook his head and turned to leave.

“You got it, Boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
